


A Very Strategic Career Move

by Edwardina



Category: Glee
Genre: Coda, Infidelity, M/M, Step-siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-29
Updated: 2011-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>302 coda: Kurt looks to Finn for some "heterosexual male lead" inspiration and, as always, goes a step too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Strategic Career Move

**Author's Note:**

> Directly follows the garage scene in 302. For a sweet anon who asked me if I would ever write Kinn and prompted me with some things that appear herein... hopefully. I hope you like it, anon. <3 Title is from something Frenchy says in _Grease_.

It wasn't until Rachel swept past him (gazing at him lovingly over her shoulder and leaving an awesome scent wafting behind her – not too layered in scented soap or whatever it was at Bath & Body works that made everything smell like chemical cotton candy, but natural and clean, and he liked that about her) that Finn saw Kurt perched on his stool across the shop, staring at him with a distant, unfocused glaze.

"What?" Finn asked him, looking around in confusion. He wondered haphazardly if his hair was sticking up, the grease on his nose was that bad, or if it was still offensive to Kurt after an entire summer to see Finn and Rachel re-enacting The Kiss That Missed.

"Oh, nothing." Kurt straightened from a depressed-looking slump into his usual more regal posture. "I was just contemplating if that whole gawping thing you do would make me a more viable romantic lead for _West Side Story_."

Finn didn't really know what Kurt was talking about. That wasn't unusual, though. It just depended. Some days, Kurt was off in some kind of really sparkly gay world where everyone was super-excited about Beyoncé for whatever reason, and sometimes he just asked Finn if he wanted a grilled chicken pita pocket and then sat by him on the couch, weirdly interested in whether Finn liked the sandwich or not. And some days Finn was bothered by the world, by having to decide stuff for his future and chickening out on all the dreams he'd ever thought he'd had, and just wasn't in the mood to watch _Fashion Police_ or nod and smile about stuff he just didn't get.

He knew when he was being douchey... but it didn't help that Kurt spent so much time planning his future in New York lately; a future he was going to share with Rachel; a future where Finn was the third wheel, at best. However, sometimes, when he heard Kurt sitting in his bedroom tapping out notes on his old Casio and stretching his vocals into the stratosphere, Finn realized that he really, really, really wanted Kurt to succeed and for all his big showbiz dreams to come true. He deserved it so much, just as much as Rachel did. He wanted them to be real brothers and he wanted to be on speed dial when Kurt got his big break. He wanted Kurt to be happy.

Feeling somewhat reassured from the kiss Rachel had given him, Finn said supportively, "Uh, whatever that means. Maybe it would."

"Finn." Kurt sighed, world-weary. "I was kind of insulting you and your kissing techniques. I mean, you can't help that you're eight feet tall and you have to stoop like Quasimodo just to kiss a girl, but here's a helpful hint for you: don't start the kiss with your mouth open like you're going to bite off Rachel's nose."

His protest came out pathetic. "Hey!"

"Sorry, buddy," said Kurt breezily. "Just telling it like it is."

"You do know I have more experience than you," Finn pointed out, dropping his wrench amongst the tools and fishing for a lug nut. "With kissing, and girls, and kissing girls."

"Then that makes you the perfect straight guy to ask for advice!" Kurt leapt up, suddenly chipper, and seemed to weavingly dance his way over to Finn, clasping his hands behind his back modestly. "If I may?"

"Yeah... yeah, sure," said Finn. He could kind of see right through the theatrics at this point, but it was still flattering to think that someone besides Rachel still considered him the consummate glee stud.

"Okay, so pretend I'm Rachel," said Kurt, and piped up over Finn's immediate groan of protest, "No, no! Hear me out. I'm just asking you to teach me a dance step, here, Finn."

"But I'm the worst dancer..."

"Yeah, okay, not literally. I didn't think that comparison through. Don't think of it as a dance step. Think of it like a football play, okay? Think of it like you're showing me how to tackle or something."

"Are you going to put on Beyoncé?" asked Finn dimly.

"Not unless you need her crazy power-runs to score," Kurt said. It sounded vaguely insulting, but before Finn could think up a response, Kurt pressed on, "Just go for this, okay? This is really important to me. Don't over-think it, and don't get freaked out, because believe me, I'm not harboring the hots for you – but I need you to, I don't know, lean in like you're going to kiss me so I can mimic your hopelessly heterosexual T-Rex style. And by the way, that's not an insult. All the kisses in all the Hollywood classics kind of look like the guy is about to break the girl's neck."

"Uhm." Finn was suddenly over-aware of the sound of power-tools a couple cars over, he suddenly couldn't remember how to screw on a lug nut, and he wasn't sure what the right response was. He didn't want to overreact or hurt Kurt's feelings. "Dude. Your dad's, like, right there in his office."

"Finn! Who cares? It'll take like two seconds. C'mon, here, I'll sit where Rachel was and everything." Kurt seated himself, and looked just as prim and expectant as Rachel did. Maybe if he was wearing a dress...

Wait, what? No, that thought wasn't...

"Oh my God. You're such an infant sometimes," said Kurt, rolling his eyes and looking off to the side in irritation. "Just when I think you've grown up and gotten it through your thick head –"

It was a sudden spark of annoyance, frustration, and stubborn refusal to be labeled an infant that made Finn do it. It was because he didn't know who he was or who he wanted to be and he always dreamed small and had failed at being a rock star and failed to win them Nationals and didn't even know if junior college was really for him. He swung down and bumped noses with Kurt, fingers gently touching the side of his jaw like he would've touched Rachel.

It was too easy, for some reason – maybe because Kurt smelled really, really good and his skin was really, really soft – just to hang there and listen to Kurt inhale sharply. Finn held him there for way longer than two seconds. To, you know, prove his point. And because it felt good to feel the way he'd felt when he'd won Quinn back from Sam and had won Rachel's kiss on stage in front of the world – like he was worthy. Cool. Smooth. Wanted.

And, just to further his point, he gave Kurt's cheek a benign, kissing-booth style peck. Because, hey, they were brothers.

He smiled at Kurt as he leaned back gradually, feeling smug. Kurt's eyes were the kind of wide they only got when he was teetering on the edge of a high-pitched jabber.

"Like that?" Finn asked innocently.

Kurt blew out a breath. "Yes. Yes, exactly."

Finn enjoyed the few seconds it took for Kurt to pull himself together and stand again – then he noticed a smear of grease on the side of Kurt's nose and realized he'd just put it there, what with getting his face right in Kurt's. He went red in about a split second, even though he was hidden behind a Honda and no one was paying attention to either of them.

"See, I just want to laugh at you and your Superman snog, but somehow I'm the one that's laughable? And yours was wearing tights and a cape – that is so much gayer," Kurt was saying. "Here, sit down. Sit! Give me that lug nut."

"Wait, what?" Finn asked. He was sitting where Kurt and Rachel had both been sitting, but he didn't remember sitting down – just a general weird weak-kneed feeling and a desire to get his Gatorade squirt-bottle and douse his face in ice water.

He watched Kurt spin the lug nut onto the tire with effortless panache (oh yeah... now he remembered how to put them on), then started somewhat as Kurt bent down out of nowhere and mirrored what Finn had done, fingers tentative but urgent under Finn's jaw, nose tucking in so close their eyelashes actually brushed against each other's.

Finn's spine stiffened a little, even though he knew Kurt wouldn't actually kiss him. It would be over in a second, so he let Kurt hold his face close, like any second their mouths would actually come together and they were hanging apart from the most fragile, tense thread.

Then it just happened. The imaginary thread became real and broke and Finn felt Kurt's mouth on his, oddly gentle and soft.

It could've just been a split-second thing, or an accident. Finn could've jumped. Kurt could've backed off and said something like, _Oh, sorry! Didn't mean to. I just couldn't resist you, Finn. I totally still have a crush on you and it just took over!_ and Finn could've said, _Dude, what the hell, you're my step-brother!_ Or, if he was trying not to be a jerk, _Aw, no, it's cool, man. Total accident. Let's just forget it ever happened and never ever, ever mention it ever again upon pain of death, okay?_ But instead, Finn's mind reeled to Rachel and how she was usually wearing lip gloss and how her kisses were always open and honest – then to Quinn, whose every kiss was hard-won, full access never granted – and all he could think was that Kurt's mouth was painfully giving and needing his against it at the same time, and this... really actually wasn't that bad. Something about the smell of Kurt should've been wrong, wrong like the smell of a dirty jock strap or potato chips or something dude-like, but instead he smelled clean and vaguely sweet and a little like the expensive hairspray he kept in his locker. But it definitely didn't feel like kissing a girl felt...

Then his mind tore to _wait, I'm not gay. Wait, I'm kissing Kurt. Or, really, I'm letting Kurt kiss me. Actually, I think I'm technically kissing back. Wait, am I gay? No, no way, I'm just..._

Then all coherent thought dropped away totally because Kurt's lips were softly nipping at his lower lip and then tipping up for more, deeper, and there was tongue, the coyest hint of it, and everything was full-body, full-pads, forty-laps-around-the-track heat, the kind that made him start to lose touch with reality and start thinking about really weird random unbidden stuff like _Fraggle Rock_ as his brain cells started dying.

Out of some kick of instinct, he went after Kurt's tongue, but Kurt just pressed his eager surge down silkily, demanded Finn's tongue move slow and slightly rough against his, like the sexiest grind Finn had ever had with a girl.

Finn was just getting the hang of it when Kurt broke from him suddenly, leaving the smell of shared breath for Finn to inhale – and Finn almost grabbed for him, but the clatter of a wrench on the floor and the grunt of one of the mechanics cussing seemed to open his ears and eyes to reality again.

"Oh. Oh, God. Oh, jeez," Kurt whispered, and started off toward the exit immediately, wringing his pale hands. His shoulders were wildly hitched and he didn't look back once as he went out the door and Finn thought he could hear a harshly hissed, "What is wrong with me?"

Stupified, Finn just sat there for a good five minutes under a slowly growing feeling of impending doom, mouth hanging open, heart beating hard and guilty.

Some part of him knew that they were going to have to talk about this later, him and Kurt, and maybe say all that stuff about forgetting it and never mentioning it again and how there was totally nothing wrong with either of them. But he also knew that what he'd just done couldn't be taken back or erased, and every time he sat down with his mom and Burt and Kurt he was going to look at Kurt and remember this, just like he could never see Santana without knowing he'd lost his virginity to her and he would always hurt knowing Quinn had lied to him for months about getting her pregnant. He would always know, first-hand, from now on, that frenching Kurt... was awesome.

Some other part of him wondered if maybe swapping spit just now had actually been surrendering to the inevitable in some way – like living in the same room and then under the same roof and then being involved in the same game of spin the bottle had all been bullets they'd dodged, only to wind up suddenly kissing in the middle of the shop when they both loved other people and definitely neither one of them had any kind of gay feelings for the other, _at all_! Oh, God, was Blaine going to find out and beat him up or sabotage him during booty camp _Showgirls_ style or something? Oh, God, was Rachel – ??

"What, is it break time already?"

Something clapped his shoulder and Finn jolted up, sweating. His stepdad squinted up at him.

"Got some grease on your nose. On both sides of it."

"I know!" blurted Finn, unnecessarily loudly. "I didn't mean to – I wasn't trying to –"

"O-kay, pal," said Burt. "Nothin' wrong with getting a little dirty during an honest day's work. Just remember to wash up before dinner, huh?"

"OKAY, YOU BET," boomed Finn, and robotically headed for the bathroom.

"Hey! Are you gonna finish this tire or what?"

"YOU BET, I JUST GOTTA PEE FIRST."


End file.
